My intention with this blog is to provide you with a cool, sexy place where you can relax, have fun and indulge your sexual fantasies. I want to arouse you, to excite you, to free your imagination, to take you all the way to delicious orgasm. I want to make you wet. I want you to come, urgently, intensely, with gorgeous abandon. Enjoy yourself, have fun, and if something in here excites you, I'd love you to leave a comment - be as wild and graphic and lustful as you please - in here you're amongst friends xx

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"Ah, you see, when you mentioned you felt like a voyeur, I had this image of you behind a dark curtain that you could partially see through. In the other room that you are looking into are high piles of large silk pillows. There are candles and low hanging lanterns. The walls are draped with silk, and fluttering from the ceiling are opaque curtains.

"Around the floor are the women you please with your thoughts, your wonderfully sinful words. And we all recline there in various stages of undress, reading your thoughts, openly masturbating. In some corners, the women are together, kissing and touching, pleasing ourselves with whispers of your stories. Moans, screams and slick sounds fill the room. And you watch behind the curtain, your hand on your cock, stroking yourself until you cum over and over again."

London 5:1 - Sophie and the film collector

Here we go with the fifth and final chapter of the Sophie in London story - by no means the last Sophie story though - after this chapter, I'll be taking Sophie and the artist to 1935 Hollywood for another five chapter adventure, for which this is (kind of) a prequel.

As usual, don't expect too much sex in the first part, but I can promise you that, as always, it's going to become much more intense as we progress.

And don't forget that there's still a couple of weeks left of the new audio contest - entries are already coming in, but the more the merrier!

To help inspire you over the next couple of weeks, here we go with new Sophie...

roger xx

London 5 - Sophie and the film collector

James was a rich man, having made a substantial fortune from his movie production investments. He was a long time friend of Sophie's father, and whenever she was in London, she made a point of visiting him at his large Holland Park house to enjoy his company. There had never been anything sexual between them - Sophie had known him since she was a child, and to this day she still affectionately referred to him as 'Uncle James'. He had become used to it, enjoyed it, and never corrected her. As Sophie had grown up, their relationship had changed a little, become a little more flirtatious, but it was never anything that Sophie had taken seriously, simply the natural consequence of an older man entertaining a platonic friendship with a beautiful young woman.

It would never have occurred to Sophie to attempt to seduce her Uncle James. Even now, here in his charming company, enjoying a glass or two of wine with him by his beautiful art deco fireside, they talked about art and movies and philosophy, with barely a hint of any sexual tension between them. When Sophie had excused herself from the artist for the evening, she had simply told him that she was visiting her Uncle James - a sexual liaison was the last thing on her mind.

For James, maintaining the innocence of the relationship was more difficult. He had wanted Sophie for some considerable time. Although he had seen her growing up, there had been gaps in their friendship - when Sophie's father had finally returned with Sophie to Paris, after a number of years in London, James didn't see her for five years. When she next visited him, she had changed from an awkward teenager to a remarkably attractive woman, and subsequent years had simply added to her beauty, her sensuality.

James had also become aware, through discreet enquiries, of her growing prominence in the decadent social circles of Paris - of how her cafe had become the place to be seen in Montparnasse, and of the rumours of her large sexual appetite amongst the regulars at her cafe. He told himself that he made these enquiries simply to ensure that she was safe and well, but as he found out more about her rather disgraceful Parisian lifestyle, he found himself becoming envious of the men who had known her, envious of the sexual liaisons he knew they had enjoyed with her. More than anything, he ached to be one of the men at her cafe, arriving there anonymously, invited into her bedroom, allowed to taste her exquisite delights.

He had enjoyed intense and explicit sexual fantasies about her for years.

Sophie, of course, was unaware of this, and James disguised it well. He knew that nothing would ever come of it, and had long ago reconciled himself to the notion that their platonic relationship would have to satisfy him, that his lust for her would remain unrecquited. Had Sophie known that the very night before joining her sweet Uncle James for a relaxing evening by the fire, he would be masturbating urgently, alone in his bed, imagining the most intimate and intense sexual pleasures with her, she may have perhaps taken the artist along with her, to deflect his attentions. She might also have thought twice about wearing the red silk dress with the deep plunging cleavage, with the daringly high slit up the side, revealing far too much of her long, stocking-clad thighs. It had been an unexpected gift from Uncle James, couriered to her Russell Square apartments the night before, and the thought that it might arouse him to see her wearing it for him never crossed her mind.

Sophie, like most beautiful women, never really appreciated quite how good she looked, or truly understood the effect she could have on a man. James had been aroused from the first moment he greeted her at his door. The dress clung to her, accentuating ever curve, exposing more of her than he had ever seen before. Each time she leaned a little forward in her chair by the fire, to pick up her wine glass, the dress almost slid away from her breasts. It was inevitable that, whilst in such a heightened state of arousal, he would almost unconsciously turn the conversation to matters of a slightly more sexual nature...